You came on Monday at one twenty nine
Squalling, wailing, furious package of mine
Compressed in a ball, tight folded, little
Pink faced, yelling, lungs so powerful
Coiled in your crib, I saw kismet
A beautiful, angelic, miracle infant
We had been given the most beautiful cherub
That had ever been gifted to any mother
Lo, all the other babies on the ward
Loved, cherished by deluded mothers adored
They didn't know they'd birthed monkeys
With red and shrivelled faces so very ugly
But, we had a smooth child fair of face
For such insightful recognition, we gave grace
I shared my Damascene insight with Mary Thorne
She said, 'I had one of those when my son was born'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem